


Safe

by Killwaii



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Bathing/Washing, Blood, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Dittany, Drarry, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter In Love, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Porn, Rough Sex, Smut, Sub Draco Malfoy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, bathroom porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killwaii/pseuds/Killwaii
Summary: Sometimes Harry and Draco's sex life can be a little...rough. But Harry is always there to kiss the pain away.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 300
Collections: HP Suds Fest 2020





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

> As anyone who knows me will attest to-I am an absolute slut for baths, and bathroom scenes, and obnoxiously large bathtubs.  
> Written for Prompt # S23
> 
> Thank you to the mods for putting on this fest, which was an arrow straight to my fluffy heart nut.
> 
> Thank you to Nika for beta reading, and offering the support my anxiety ridden self needed. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy.

Draco couldn’t breathe.

Bright stars danced across his vision, strong fingers digging into his throat, firm. Bruising.

Just as he’d asked for. Begged for.

Draco could feel his skin tight, and raw where it dug into the scratchy sheets, as Harry pounded into him, fingers tight around his throat, tight around his cock.

“Fuck, Draco,” Harry panted in his ear, voice rough, “So fucking tight, so fucking perfect”

Draco knew his knees would be bruised, and that spot that Harry liked, the one near the base of his neck, was bleeding. Could feel the heat from where he’d felt the sweet sting of teeth break the skin, that heat sending shivers down his spine, a wave of pleasure straight to his core. The sting as his own sweat entered the bite, as Harry licked and worried the tender flesh, lapping it all up.

Could feel the bruises forming around his throat from the grip Harry had on him; the scratches stinging with sweat-both his own and Harrys. 

His face rubbed against the sheets, as Harry thrust, harder, deeper. Hitting that spot that made Draco cry out, teeth grinding on his own fingers, shoved inside his mouth, to keep from crying out any louder. Drool pooled out of his mouth, fingers soaked as Harry stroked his cock, squeezing, fingers brushing against his slit, teasing. 

He was close, _so_ close. That hand on his cock, the thickness of Harry stretching and filling him, pounding into him, hard and rough. Pounding him into the bed, the force just this side of too much.

Just like he’d asked for. Vision dancing with multicoloured stars, the edges blackening as his body tingled, muscles stretched taut, straining and shaking… waiting–-

“Perfect. I’m going to–-” a groan “–-so fucking deep–-”

–-and Draco could feel his release explode through his body. Those stars finally burst around his eyes, head dropping, saliva dripping from his mouth, open in a long moan. Cock twitching, straining against Harry’s hold, releasing hot, thick ropes of cum across the bed sheets.

Draco knew the instant Harry came, seconds after his orgasm started.

Fingers tightened around his throat, around his still-spasming cock, as Draco’s body twitched and convulsed, waves of pleasure coursing through his body. Could feel as his ass was filled with cum, hot inside of him, filling him so _deep_. The loud groan in his ear, as teeth sank into his neck, Draco’s vision going black, his entire body spasming and shuddering from the prolonged orgasm ripping through his body.

Draco felt himself being lowered to the bed, felt the heat of Harry’s tongue as he lapped at the bite wound, licking up the blood, licking away the pain. He groaned as Harry pulled out, feeling empty, but satiated, as he felt the hot cum slowly drip out of his ass.

It had taken a long time to get Harry to agree to, well, this. Not the sex, of course. That was inevitable, really. Them having hate sex. It just happened to turn into _real_ sex, and then dating. And then, now, finally–occasionally–-this. 

* * *

“I just don’t… Draco… I don’t want to hurt you. Not again.” 

Harry had cried the first time he’d seen the scars that littered Draco’s chest. Had traced them all with his fingers, then his tongue, kissing across the raised, white tissue slashed across Draco’s pale skin.

He’d done it more than once, the guilt over nearly killing Draco a scar that ran deeper than Harry let on to most. Not that Draco blamed him–-not even once. 

But, well, they were working on that. Harry knew he was forgiven, but forgiveness and acceptance were different beasts. 

“It’s not…” Draco raked a hand through his hair, sighed. “It’s not like that. I _want_ to be hurt… it feels good. To just… not be in control. It’s hard to explain…”

Harry dropped soft kisses across Draco’s shoulders, fingers caressing softly up and down Draco’s spine. “Try, please. I want to give you anything you want, I do. I just–-”

“I understand… I do. I feel… well.” Draco had sat a moment, eyes closed, as shivers had gone up his spine at Harry's touch. He’d never get over it, the feeling of Harry, never get over the fact that _he’d_ gotten the Saviour.

Death Eater scum, bedding the wizard who’d saved them all. Over a year, and it still left Draco speechless. 

“I suppose… something in me is broken? Maybe it always had been, maybe it was the war. I don’t know. But… pain and pleasure are crossed over. When I feel pain, in… in _that_ kind of moment, it turns into pleasure. I mean, when we aren’t doing things, pain just bloody well hurts. But when it’s mixed with pleasure?” he paused. “Do you… remember that time, that accident with my hair? That felt so good… do you remember how fast I’d come?”

Harry had gone silent, fingers still. 

“Maybe we’re both broken…” Harry’s voice had been so soft, so quiet, Draco had to strain to hear him, and completely missed the next words, garbled as Harry had stuffed his face in a pillow.

“Wha–-”

“It wasn’t an accident.” Harry finally met Draco’s gaze, pupils blown wide, and filled with lust.

* * *

“–-raco, this may be a little cold, but bear with me.” The softness of Harry’s voice brought him back to reality. He’d drifted off, body weightless, boneless from the pleasure, completely unaware Harry had even left.

Draco groaned at the cool cloth against his ass, the slow throb of pain permating the fog of pleasure that was his brain. It wasn’t surprising that his ass hurt, not with the pounding Harry's given him. The cloth was cool against his swollen flesh but it was a relief against the tender skin, the fabric soft as Harry wiped away the extra fluids, whispering a spell to remove everything from inside Draco. 

“Sorry, love.” Harry dropped a kiss against the back of Draco’s neck, lips soft and gentle beside the sharp pain of the bite mark.

Draco settled back into the bed, the soreness beginning to throb, but Draco liked it. Liked the feeling of having lost control, of having been dominated. Of having _Harry_ dominate him. He liked the scars and the marks that Harry left, marking his skin, marking Draco as Harrys. 

It felt… safe. Draco felt **safe**. With Harry.

* * *

Draco was boneless as Harry slid his arms around the other man. It wasn’t the first time, no. Draco often was so blissed out after a hard fuck, his body finally, fully relaxed and completely pliant in Harry’s arms. 

He felt the blonde nuzzle in close against his chest as he stood, carrying Draco princess style, towards the bath. 

While Harry had been known to be… well, not the most observant person, during his time at Hogwarts, he liked to think he’d matured. At least, in matters of the heart. And Draco. Especially those things combined, which, really, it was inevitable wasn’t it? If he’d actually been observant, or less focused on the whole crazy murdering supremacist thing, he’d probably have noticed his obsession with Draco wasn’t entirely innocent. Or at least, not innocent in an entirely different way.

Although, as his mind healer waxed poetic, what was done was done, and there was no point in what could have been, only what still can be. The past was done, and the future was still waiting. Not that she said it quite like that. There was a good deal about traumatic experiences, PTSD, and feelings, but, it was primarily about the now and the future.

And, right now, he knew that, while still riding the euphoric high of a prolonged orgasm, Draco would soon begin to feel the soreness. The bruises. The bite marks.

Harry had already set the bath running when he’d gone to get the cloth, the bathroom smelling of bergamot and eucalyptus, and the lightest undertones of mint. It was an herbal concoction he’d developed with Neville, specifically to help muscle soreness and small abrasions of this, er, kind. Draco had vehemently refused all use of dittany before, claiming he wanted the scars, the marks. And, while that filled Harry with a burning desire to claim Draco again, he also knew there was only so much pain he’d let Draco go through.

He dropped a kiss against Draco’s head, the silken strands sweaty against his lips. 

“Okay, love, hold on.” Harry said, walking up the stairs to the already filled bath.

“–-wai–-when did you…?” Draco’s voice was slow, quiet, lips pressed against Harry’s chest.

“Earlier, don’t worry about it.”

Harry felt the responding hum deep in his chest as he checked the bath temperature.

The bath was… well… okay, it was like a jacuzzi. Big enough for 6 people, with several seats, and spots to lay down comfortably without drowning. After the war, Harry had done a bit of travelling, with Draco, and they’d stayed at a fancy hotel in Chamonix, with a similar, but smaller, bath.

He’d upgraded their bathroom the day they got back from that trip. It was a big surprise for Draco, who’d taken baths nightly at that hotel, Harry in tow. 

Draco had moved in a few weeks after that trip, citing the bathtub, which, truth be told, had been part of Harry’s plan. He was a simple man, who just wanted to spoil his boyfriend, was that so wrong?

The water was hot against Harry’s skin, the heat soothing and comforting, as he sank down into the first seat, Draco still tucked in his arms. The bubbles reached both of their shoulders, the foam gently lapping at their skin, white foam against moonlight paleness and the tawny stretch of Harry. 

The heat eased the tension in Harry’s muscles and bones, and he smiled in relief as he felt Draco go boneless in his arms. Harry knew he worried too much, especially about Draco, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Harry waved his hand, wandlessly–-and wordlessly–-extinguishing the lights, leaving only the dozens of candles for light. When Harry had bought the flat, he’d wanted everything he hadn’t had at the Dursleys. He wanted a sanctuary. Some place that he could be comfortable and safe. A place that was special, for him. 

“This feels wonderful, darling.” The words were soft and languid, relaxed. 

Draco rearranged himself so that he was sitting more fully in Harry’s lap, straddling his lap, arms going around Harry’s shoulders, skin hot against his. Draco rested his head against Harry’s shoulder and nuzzled in, sighing as he did so.

“I’m glad you’re comfortable, love, but how in Merlin’s name am I going to get us clean like this?”

A hum, followed by, “Just a bit longer, please?”

Harry’s response was a small chuckle, and an open-mouthed kiss against pale skin.

Harry had designed the entire flat with the idea of it being a sanctuary, with live plants, soothing colours, and comfy, yet functional furniture. Despite what the world, apparently, had expected, most of the flat was done in cool blues and whites, with dark brown and gold accents. It had caused enough fuss in the wizarding world, seeing Harry buying something that wasn’t Gryffindor red, that he’d turned around, and bought everything at Marks and Spencers. 

When he’d started dating Draco, Harry had only added more comforts, creating more of a sanctuary feel. After what he’d experienced with the Dursley’s, and what Draco had gone through at the Manor, it was only right they had a place that was nothing but _them_.

Which is why, after adding the huge bath/mini pool, Harry had added floating shelves of draping plants, soft plush matts, and fluffy gold towels. When Draco had moved in, he’d added dozens of candles, in all shapes and sizes, and all scented. 

He’d also switched them from 2-ply to 3-ply, stating that Harry ‘worshipped his ass so much that he should at least keep it smooth’.

Moving slowly, Harry dropped kisses along Draco’s neck, soft, fluttering things against pale moonlight, slick with the heat. A flick of a tongue, the sharp tang of salt, and a nose buried in that soft spot, behind the smallest shell of an ear, that hid Draco’s only cluster of freckles.

Harry breathed in the scent that was uniquely Draco-citrus and spice, a heady scent that always filled Harry’s chest with warmth. Whenever Draco was visiting the manor, Harry would sleep with Draco’s pillow, breathing in the scent that was home.

Caressing a slick finger across smooth shoulders, Harry reached for their fancy shampoo, some French brand that Draco insisted on. 

“Come on, love.”

Rather than responding verbally, Draco turned, unclasping his legs and arms from Harry, and settled in front of him, facing away, but still secured within the fold of Harry’s legs.

Shampoo already in hand, Harry worked it into a lather before gently running his fingers through the pale strands. Starting at the front, fingers working through the locks, fingernails scratching at the sensitive scalp. The strands slipped through Harry’s fingers, as he worked out the knots, easing the shampoo into a thick lather, fingertips massaging, firm as Draco purrs.

Summoning a jug of water, Harry rinsed away the shampoo, fingers working out the suds, leaving clean locks plastered against Draco’s long neck. Draco had grown his hair, since Hogwarts, and Harry was, well, even he had to admit that he was a bit mental about it. 

It wasn’t like it was his fault! Draco just had exceptionally beautiful hair, like spilled moonlight in the pale winter’s dawn that reflected the ice cold beauty of the fresh snow. Harry would never pass up the opportunity to play with the long, silken strands, now just past Draco’s shoulders.

If Harry could, he’d wrap himself in Draco’s hair, like a warm blanket of the palest moonlight.

Taking the conditioner next, Harry ran the smallest amount through that silken moonlight, running his fingers through the strands, fingers massaging the scalp before running his nails across that skin. He massaged Draco’s neck, kissing the bruising bite mark he’d left, taking extra care to be gentle against the swollen flesh. 

“Mmmm… that feels nice.” Draco breathed, leaning his head back and up, lips soft against Harry’s cheek.

“Good. Now, lean forward a bit–-thanks.”

Harry quickly rinsed the conditioner from Draco’s hair, gently twisting the hair ro remove the extra water, and moving the twisted hair to the side. He frowned at the blossoming bruise around the deep bite mark. He’d gone harder than he’d planned on.

He knew Draco would be upset, but…

With a wave of his hand, the dittany flew to his hand, and, cork clenched between his teeth, Harry dabbed the smallest amount onto the bite marks, using gentle, but sure strokes to ensure the bites were fully covered.

“Hey–-Harry, wait–-” Draco squirmed in his arms but Harry was already done. The dittany was already working, the swelling reducing and the wounds healing. 

“I used only enough to close the wounds, and stop the pain, love. You… you know how I feel about you being hurt.” Harry kissed Draco’s temple, at that spot where skin met hair. 

A sigh. “Fine. But only because I know you’ll pout otherwise.”

“Me? Pout? I do no such thing!” 

“Whatever you say, oh great Saviour. Now hold still”

Harry closed his eyes as Draco turned around, long legs wrapping around Harry’s waist, so that Draco was in his lap. Fingers caressed his arms through the water, starting at Harry’s wrists, sliding up strong forearms, squeezing relaxed biceps, before reaching Harry’s shoulders, where they clasped behind his neck.

A soft kiss against his lower lip, a breath against his face as Draco whispered, “I love you.”

Harry smiled ,“I love you, too.”

  
  



End file.
